about your fangs, Hollywood?” As Rhage closed his eyes and cursed, Tohr's tone eased up. “Be real. She's a complication we don't need, and she's trouble for you because you chose her over a command from me. I'm not doing this to bust your balls, Rhage. It's safer for everybody. Safer for her. You will do this, my brother.”
Safer for her.
Rhage leaned down and grabbed his ankles. He stretched his hamstrings so hard, he nearly pulled them off the backs of his legs.
Safer for Mary.
“I'll take care of it,” he said finally.
“Ms. Luce? Please come with me.”
Mary looked up and didn't recognize the nurse. The woman seemed really young in her loose pink uniform, was probably right out of school. And she got younger as she smiled because of the dimples.
“Ms. Luce?” She shifted the voluminous file in her arms.
Mary put her purse strap on her shoulder, got to her feet, and followed the woman out of the waiting room. They went halfway down a long, buff-colored hall and paused in front of a check-in station.
“I'm just going to weigh you and take your temperature.” The nurse smiled again and got even more points for being good with the scale and the thermometer. She was quick. Friendly.
“You've lost some weight, Ms. Luce,” she said, while making a note in the file. “How's your eating?”
“The same.”
“We're down here on the left.”
The examination rooms were all alike. Framed Monet poster and a little window with drawn blinds. Desk with pamphlets and a computer. Exam table with a piece of white paper stretched over it. Sink area with various supplies. Red biohazard container in the corner.
Mary felt like throwing up.
“Dr. Delia Croce said she wanted to take your vitals.” The nurse handed over a neatly folded square of fabric. “If you'll put this on, she'll be right in.”
The gowns were all the same, too. Thin, soft cotton, blue with a small pink pattern. There were two sets of ties. She was never sure whether she was putting the damn things on right, whether the slit should go in the front or the back. She chose the front today.
When she was finished changing, Mary slid up onto the table and dangled her feet off the edge. It was chilly without her clothes, and she looked at them, all neatly arranged on the chair next to the desk. She would have paid good money to get back in them.
With a chime and a whistle, her cell phone went off in her purse. She dropped back down to the floor and padded over in her socks.
She didn't recognize the number as she checked caller ID and answered out of hope. “Hello?”
“Mary.”
The sound of the rich male voice made her sag with relief. She'd been so sure Hal wouldn't return her call.
“Hi. Hi, Hal. Thanks for calling.” She looked around for a place to sit that wasn't on the exam table. Moving her clothes to her lap, she eased into the chair. “Look, I'm really sorry about last night. I just—”
There was a knock and then the nurse poked her head in.
“Excuse me, did you release your bone scans from last July to us?”
“Yes. They should be in my record.” When the nurse shut the door, Mary said, “Sorry.”
“Where are you?”
“I, ah…” She cleared her throat. “It's not important. I just wanted you to know how bad I felt about what I said to you.”
There was a long silence.
“I just panicked,” she said.
“Why?”
“You make me… I don't know, you're just…” Mary fiddled with the edge of the gown. The words tumbled out. “I've got cancer, Hal. I mean, I've had it and it might be back.”
“I know.”
“So Bella told you.” Mary waited for him to confirm it; when he didn't she took a deep breath. “I'm not using the leukemia as an excuse for the way I behaved. It's just… I'm in a weird place right now. My emotions are bouncing all over and having you in my house”—being totally attracted to you—“it triggered something and I lashed out.”
“I understand.”
Somehow, she felt as though he did.
But God, his silences were a killer. She began to feel like a fool for keeping him on the line.
“Anyway, that's all I wanted to say.”
“I'll pick you up tonight at eight. Your house.”
She gripped the phone. God, she wanted to see him so badly. “I'll be waiting for you.”
From outside the door of the exam room, Dr. Delia Croce's voice rose and fell in concert with the nurse's.
“And Mary?”
“Yes?”
“Wear your hair